Sans Ross
by Comycat1987
Summary: (A oneshot for the au Howlingtale) Sans and Frisk discover Bob Ross. Bored, they decide to awaken their artistic side! Watch as they fail... For the most part! (Cursing, slight Frans)


**Hello! If you have not read Howlingtale please do so before reading this, this is a side story and you will not understand the characters/situation.**

 **Slight Frans reference, cursing.**

 **I do not own Undertale. I do own Howlingtale.**

 **Let's go.**

* * *

"Sans? What are you watching?" Frisk noticed Sans sitting on the couch, looking intently at his phone with wide eyes. He looked extremely focused.

Frisk wondered if it was something dirty…

"Sans?" Frisk repeated, putting down the towel she was using to wipe down the table. She wasn't the most household oriented, but Papyrus had been sleeping over with Undyne and Rocky the passed few days and Sans being Sans let the house go to hell. There were wrappers and containers everywhere and if Frisk didn't fix it by the time Paps got home tomorrow Papyrus would have a heart attack.

She could hear someone talking, but she couldn't make out the words.

Frisk approached, leaning over the arm of the couch and stretching so she could see the screen.

It was some dude with an afro, giant paint pallet, and painting a picture. It was one of a waterfall in a forest setting.

Frisk blinked.

Sans was artistic?

The man was talking in a soft voice that had a certain charm to it. He was dabbing the painting with his brush, talking about "happy little trees."

Frisk's gaze shifted to Sans.

He seemed really absorbed in it.

She gave him a light shake, her tail curving over her back.

"…Hmpfh?" Sans snapped out of his daze and jumped a little.

"I never knew you liked painting. It isn't really the first thing that comes to mind when I think of you." Frisk said, trying to hide her amusement.

Sans shifted further down into his hoodie, blue ringing his cheeks.

"M'not into art…"

"Then why are you watching?" Frisk asked with a slight chuckle.

"…this guy is awesome."

"Who is he?" Frisk asked, watching as the man took the brush and slammed it multiple times against the table, talking about "beating the devil out of it."

Frisk snorted.

She wished she could do that to Chara.

Just beat the devil out of it.

"Some dude named Bob Ross. I found this on the surface website. Apparently he used to be really popular up there."

"You can access surface videos?"

"How do you think we get some of our movies? We have very, very limited access but some stuff trickles down. Usually older stuff."

"Hmmm." Frisk crawled onto the couch, landing on her stomach with her legs hanging over the arm. She rested her head on his arm, and Sans flinched a little.

He seemed unusually touchy lately. Even a little embarrassed whenever she got close.

It was odd, but Sans himself was odd. She learned worrying about his wild personality wasn't worth the effort.

She found herself soon mesmerized, just as Sans was. There was something about the softness of the man's voice- Bob- that lulled her into a relaxed state but so intriguing on how he transformed something that looked so simple into such a detailed looking piece of art.

They soon watched episode after episode, and she was half asleep when Sans spoke.

"…I sorta wanna make one now."

"Hmmm?"

"I want to make one. The wilderness on the surface looks pretty. And it looks real easy."

"You actually want to paint. Do we even have paint and a canvas and stuff?" Frisk sat up and yawned.

"Actually, I think I do. The paint is probably really thick and old, but I got a set for Paps a long time ago. It was on clearance. There's no more orange, let me tell you that much. All the kid would paint is little globs of orange and brown "spaghetti". Then he lost interest and I had no more paint stains to clean up."

"…I could imagine." Frisk laughed at the thought of a little Papyrus slapping a bunch of paint excitedly on a paper.

"Holdup, I'll be right back." Sans stood up and stretched before walking upstairs. A few seconds later, she heard a gritty door being pulled open.

About five minutes later, Sans returned with a dusty bag.

She could smell the unique smell of acrylics and the musty smell of mildew.

Sans plopped it on the ground and pulled out an old wooden stand, a box of brushes, a bunch of paints and slightly yellowed paper.

He ran his fingers along it, frowning.

"These top papers are unusable, they are kinda damp."

"Aren't they supposed to get wet anyways?"

"If you wanna use moldy paper go right ahead Snap pea." Sans peeled a couple sheets off the top. They seemed more floppy than the papers underneath, and she now understood why Sans wouldn't want to use them.

"You wanna join or am I going to fail alone?" Sans asked.

"I guess I'll try." Frisk was never very artistic. But she was also a little curious- was it really as easy as Bob Ross made it?

Sans set up the stand- Albeit lopsided- with the paper. Frisk had a feeling it wasn't for the kind of paper seeing as it was about three times bigger- but at least that made it so they could both use the same stand.

Frisk wrinkled her nose up at the mildewy stench the wood gave off as she moved up to it.

Sans squirted probably too much paint onto the palette in a rather spastic manner.

"Shouldn't you do it in a neat circle? You know… make it organized?"

"Naw. This is pure art right here." Sans wiggled the palette haphazardly.

"…huh."

"We need a knify thingy. Hold up."

Sans went into the kitchen and returned with a butcher knife.

"That's not the right knife. Your gonna put a h-"

Sans literally _snapped_ the blade in half.

"wanna repeat that Puppo? I didn't quite hear you over my GENIUS."

"…you're bleeding, GENIUS."

"Whatever, more paint." Sans put the knife down and set his phone up between the two canvases.

"…that's sick."

"Naw. Hey, he usually paints it black first. Imma do that. Go get a cup of water." Sans took the biggest brush, some black, and started going nuts.

"…" Frisk left silently and got said water, and both of the canvases were painted when she returned.

"Alright. This one is called "Evening at the Falls". This one?" Sans pointed.

"Sure."

"Yee." Sans tapped it.

The video took a little longer to load, like it was warning them of a bad time to come.

"Hi, welcome back." Bob greeted.

"Heylo, ." Sans whistled. He looked at her.

"Ya'know, if I wasn't straight, I'd totally date that dude."

"… that's weird. He's like, 1000 years old."

"So is Tori. And she ain't bad looking."

"Okay, but he's not even attractive."

"But he's awesome."

"I think he's Christian. If you got within 20 feet of him he'd be throwing crosses at you."

"Am I that bad?"

"Go look at your browser history and then you'll have your answer."

"Wait, you looked at my history?!" Sans jumped a little, and the blue on his face put the paint to shame.

"Spoiler alert, I didn't. I just know I probably don't want to."

"…screw you." Sans hid in his hood as Bob started painting.

"So… we need to make a blue thing." Frisk took the brush and made a color that looked similar and copied the strokes.

It didn't look nearly as light and well coordinated, and copying the blending thing made it worse.

Frisk was already unhappy.

This was going to be awful.

Next the water.

How did he make it look like water!?

It looked like a line of messy paint on Frisk's paper.

"I told you I can't art." Frisk muttered. She had made the lines too long. Blending up pulled the paint up too, messing it up further.

"Well, either you are doing something wrong or I'm an artistic genius in the making." Sans replied.

Frisk looked over at his.

It looked perfectly like what Bob Ross was making, save for a few design differences.

"W-wha… how…" Frisk motioned to it, speechless.

"You're probably not doing it right."

"But I did the thing and blended and… uuuugh!" Frisk turned back the the canvas, frustrated.

Whyyyyyyyy.

Frisk didn't bother trying to use the dead butcher knife like Bob was, instead opting for the brush. Sans used the knife and made it work. Then the trees. Sans made nice trees. Frisk's trees looked lopsided and scribbled.

What. Was. She. Doing. Wrong?

Suddenly, Sans tapped on the video, pausing it.

"Hold up, I wanna add something."

"…what." Frisk watched as he mixed a gray color together and started making something on top of the rocks.

"I'm making wolves."

"Of course you are." She wasn't surprised.

"I hope you fail."

"And I thought I was the asshole."

"You are the asshole!"

"You're the one getting salty that I can paint better than you."

"…screw you. I'm done." Frisk set her brush down, threw the failed painting away, and then went and cuddled with Storm for the next two hours contemplating her failure.

Sans's painting ended up looking professional, save for the fact there were wolves _everywhere._ There had to be at least 30 in that one picture. Apparently he took Bobs words of "this is your world, you can add anything you want" to heart.

Sans hung it in his room. He seemed secretly proud. Or he just really liked all those wolves.

Funny thing was- she never saw him pick up another paintbrush again. Ever. Not even a pencil.

Also turned out Bob had passed away awhile ago. It made Frisk a little sad to be watching a now dead person, but it was oddly relaxing nonetheless.

When questioned about the painting Sans just said he went to the store and bought it. Frisk was completely baffled and wondered how long he had been artistically gifted and kept it a secret.

She adapted a new nickname for him, something no one else got.

Sans Ross.

* * *

 **R.I.P Bob Ross.**

 **This was fun XD this isn't cannon to HT, but maybe I'll give Sans a talent for painting in HT. Who knows.**

 **Make sure to review and tell me what you think!**


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